


Inside These Vast Rooms

by bylamplight



Category: Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Bram POV, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Friendship, Lots of that too, M/M, Pining, lots and lots of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 16:03:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11256297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bylamplight/pseuds/bylamplight
Summary: “You never really know what he’s thinking. But I have this theory that Bram’s probably really funny inside his own head.”A look into Bram Greenfeld’s head – 4 scenes that take place during the book, and one in the aftermath.





	Inside These Vast Rooms

I. Bram doesn’t really know...

what drives him to make the post. Not exactly loneliness - more the feeling of having something to say and no one to say it to. He’s a boiling pot on the verge of overflowing.

Garrett’s been his best friend since he moved to Shady Creek in the 9th grade, but the thing about Garrett is that he is definitely a friend-by-circumstance. They were the new kids at the same time, they both liked soccer, and it just kind of happened. That’s not to say Garrett isn’t a great guy, because he is, and they’re really close, but… it’s weird how you can talk to someone all the time without talking to him _about_ anything. 

It’s not like he can talk to his parents, either – as much as he contradicts the teenager cliché (he obeys his curfew, does his homework, etc.), there’s no way he’s anywhere near the point of being able to discuss things like his sexuality with them. The soccer team is mostly just casual acquaintances. He’s friendly enough with Nick Eisner, but their conversation topics don’t tend to stray far from Call of Duty and the algebra homework. That pretty much exhausts Bram’s options. He hasn’t really formed real relationships with anyone else at his lunch table, because… Simon. Around him, talking is just not really an option. Bram came to terms with that a while ago.

The Tumblr is a last resort. He’s aware of its existence the way he imagines an ant is aware of, like, a turtle, or something– he knows it’s there, but it doesn’t really affect his day-to-day life. All it takes is one night, though; his room is too dark and too warm, and his thoughts won’t stop spinning. Spinning and spinning. He feels nauseated.

A tension within him relaxes a little once he hits the blue “post” button in the corner of his laptop screen. He’s sure everyone will ignore his confession; his half-baked poetry is way less interesting than the surge of gossip that comes with the start of the school year. All the same, it’s out. He’s admitted his secret to the universe, even if it was anonymously, and he goes to sleep breathing a little easier.

He checks his phone as he brushes his teeth the next morning, then fumbles not to drop it onto the linoleum after he sees the notification.

_Anonymous replied to your post._

He didn’t think anyone would comment, and he isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do now. What’s the etiquette for responding to people who relate to your awkward, slightly pretentious, kind-of-not-really coming out? Part of him wants to delete the post, just to remove the choice altogether. But that would be purely symbolic, because he’s already memorized the email address.

He resolves to ignore it. Maybe the person who commented will assume he didn’t see it? But he can’t stop looking at it: THIS. Under his desk in class. THIS. In the locker room before soccer conditioning. THIS. It’s just one word; it should be utterly forgettable. But no, he’s acutely aware of the commenter’s existence as he goes through his school day. Probably makes a ton of awkward eye contact with guys he thinks it could be (not that he has much to go on). It’s just weird knowing he’s out there, somewhere. He feels a little removed from his friends, too. He’s gay, too, in all likelihood. He probably felt a similar kind of not exactly lonely. 

Maybe Bram gives himself a little too much credit when he says he contradicts the teenager cliché, because assuming you’re the only person who feels the way you feel is pretty much the definition of teenage angst. It’s eye-opening to be proven wrong.  
In the end, though, he probably wouldn’t have gone through with sending the email if not for Simon. Simon, who is scrolling through his phone at lunch with Abby Suso looking over his shoulder, nose scrunched.

“How do you read that, Simon?” she asks him, straightening back into her seat. “It’s so trashy.”

“What’s trashy?” Nick speaks through a mouthful of his sandwich, too quickly. Leah purses her lips, all annoyed, and— oh. Bram suddenly gets why she’s seemed moodier this school year. It’s amazing what you can figure out about people if you’re observant enough. That’s a bummer for Garrett, though.

“The Tumblr,” Abby responds. “It’s gross.”

“I like Tumblr,” Leah grumbles.

“Me too,” Garrett volunteers. Bram looks at him. He hadn’t known that. The idea that Garrett could’ve seen Bram’s post is mildly nauseating.

“I don’t have a problem with Tumblr, the social media platform,” Abby explains. “Just _the_ Tumblr. Creeksecrets. It’s just people talking shit about each other.”

“There’s more to it than that,” Simon protests, mildly. “Some people get, like, really deep. I saw this post the other day that—“

“I didn’t even know we had a tumblr,” Nick interrupts, and the conversation turns to teasing him.

“You’re a 16-year-old Grandpa,” Simon laughs, and Bram chokes a little on his chocolate milk. Simon laughs like his face was made for that sole purpose. There’s nothing snarky about it, just genuine delight: his eyes lighting up behind his glasses, and his head propped up on his chin, and…

Shady Creek is a big high school. The chance of Simon being the commenter is slim to none. Logically, Bram knows that. But he’s never really had logical reactions to Simon Spier.

FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com  
TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com  
DATE: Aug 31 at 4:08 pm  
SUBJECT: Um, hi…

He feels completely unlike himself as he hits send. But… in a good way.

 

II. So, as it turns out...

sending that email is pretty much the best decision Bram has ever made. Another reason to thank God for Simon Spier.

It sounds pathetic, but Jacques is kind of exactly what Bram needs. He’s the perfect confidant and he’s funny – sometimes Bram actually laughs out loud while reading his emails — but he’s never mean. He’s smart, too, without ever being stuffy— like, he’ll just drop a line about being locked into yourself, and it’ll sum up what Bram’s feeling more accurately than he could with a thousand words. It’s really unfair, actually, but mostly just really charming. That’s the word. Bram’s just totally charmed.

Sometimes he even feels a little charming, too. Taking out the face-to-face aspect of the communication makes him braver, and he discovers that he actually knows how to be witty. Flirty, even. It’s exhilarating.

Besides Jacques, though, life goes on as normal. And in real life, he’s not brave or flirty or witty, just awkward.

“I look ridiculous,” Bram grumbles, pulling down his skirt. But that just reveals a new stretch of skin on his stomach, so he yanks his shirt down too. “Why do the cheerleading uniforms have to show so much skin?” He doesn’t really have a problem dressing up; the issue lay more in that people are going to be staring at him all day. Not necessarily bad staring, but he still prefers his inconspicuous collared shirts. Soon it’ll be chilly enough to wear sweaters over them. Those are the kind of fashion risks Bram likes taking. Spirit Week is just not really his thing.

“I dunno,” Garrett replies. “It’s pretty objectifying. If you think about it, we’re standing in solidarity.”

“If you say so,” Bram mutters.

“Live a little, Greenfeld,” he chides, grabbing his elbow and steering him down the hallway to English class. “It’s just one day.”

“Hey, guys.” Nick motions them over to the couch. Bram lowers himself down gingerly, making sure he’s sitting on his skirt and not the actual sofa. There are some unidentifiable stains that he’d rather not have skin contact with.

“’Sup, Eisner? Looking good, dude.” Garrett offers his fist.

“Breaking gender roles one self-important jock at a time, right?” Nick asks, bumping it.

“We do our best,” Garrett agrees. Bram appreciates that his friends have that mentality about it, seeing as a lot of the guys on the soccer team think differently. Gender Bender Day is the hugest joke to most of the school. Like straight guys dressing up as the so-called “opposite” gender is the pinnacle of humor. Bram doesn’t often roll his eyes (seems too closely related to the butthole lips and “Okaaaaayyyy…” of middle school), but that really makes him want to.

“Standing in solidarity,” he says to Garrett, who nods.

Simon walks into the room right before the late bell rings, and Bram melts into his corner of the couch. He hasn’t gone all out today, which is out-of-character, but part of his bangs are clipped back and it makes his eyes look bigger and more luminous than usual, behind his glasses. Bram can feel those eyes on him as Simon sits down at his desk. Bram stares resolutely at his grass-stained Nikes. Abby and Martin’s arrival distract both of them, but after the class has quieted and starts getting into the movie (they’re watching Twelfth Night, which Bram appreciates) Simon’s gaze keeps coming back to him. He knows it’s probably just the outfit. Still, after years of not so subtly staring at Simon Spier, having him stare back is some mix of fantastic and terrible. He’s probably just imagining it.

But then after class Garrett says, “I wonder what Spier wanted. He was totally staring at you.”

“Huh,” Bram huffs. His face warms, and he’s sure he’s so obvious. “Didn’t notice.”

 

III. It’s small things...

at first. The English teacher is a big hint, since Mr. Wise only teaches two junior classes, but mostly it’s things that are hard to articulate, like the way Simon and Jacques talk. Of course he’s always hoped for Jacques to be Simon, that was what got him to send the email in the first place, but when he doesn’t let himself actively think about it. And then his mom forwards him some random article about French nursery rhymes, so he figures out “Jacques a dit” and...

Yeah. It should be a dream come true, but the catalyst for Bram figuring it out is Simon getting outed to the school. He doesn’t really know the details, but he feels like it would kind of shitty to be happy about that. He doesn’t want to make things any worse, but he figures the decent thing to do is be honest, right?

So he sends him an email. And Simon thinks he’s Cal Price. Which is, you know. Fine. It’s fine. The next day he overhears Abby telling Nick about how she thinks they’re going to be a thing, and that’s fine too. Simon doesn’t owe Bram anything. Simon and Bram have talked approximately six times, and the last time they did Simon seemed to think Bram liked Leah, so. Maybe Jacques and Blue could’ve been something, but Jacques doesn’t really exist anymore, and Blue was a pipe dream. Some idealized version of Bram that could never be in real life. So maybe it’s better this way.

Who is he kidding? Bram’s pretty fucking miserable.

He knows Garrett knows something is up, because he’s being extra nice. After school one day he says, “Dude, I saw this crazy medley of the Halo theme songs on Youtube, and I think I’ve pretty much got it down. You’ve got to come over to hear it.”

Bram texts his mom, and she’s fine with it, since she’s working late anyway, so he goes over to Garrett’s house and listens to him play piano. It’s really beautiful, even if it is just video game themes, and he appreciates Garrett for trying to cheer him up, so he’s feeling way better when he heads home. But then he puts his iPod on shuffle in the car, and Elliott Smith comes on, and he just… nothing about this is fair.

Bram’s lived in Georgia his whole life. He’s encountered most of the normal childhood micro-aggressions that come with being black: the kid in preschool who didn’t want to play with him, the kid in elementary school who wanted to touch his hair all the time. There’s different stuff now that he’s older. People will cross the street rather than pass him, especially if it’s dark outside, and he’s had the talk with his mom about what to do if a police officer ever pulls him over. 

He knows Simon liked him, though. Liked Blue, at least. And Bram can’t help but think that if looked a little more like Cal Price, if his eyes were bluer and his hair was blonder and his skin a little closer to the color of the fruit that hung from the trees on the drive from Atlanta to Savannah… he might’ve had a chance.

He doesn’t cry, but he knows he’s pretty close to it for the remainder of the drive. He can’t bring himself to switch songs, because the Elliott Smith is actually kind of perfect for how he’s feeling. Oh, irony. Bram’s life sucks.

 

IV. He mopes around…

for a couple more days before Garrett corners him on the field after practice. 

“Dude,” Garrett says solemnly, catching Bram by the elbow as he’s heading for the locker room. “We’ve got to talk.”

“Uh, sure.” Bram follows Garrett over to the bleachers. They aren’t really the type to have heart-to-hearts, so he’s not sure what to expect as he sits down.

“Alright.” Garrett sits cross-legged and faces Bram. “What’s up?”

Bram blinks. “What do you mean? You’re the one who wanted to talk.”

“Yeah… about what’s bothering you.”

“Nothing’s bothering me.” Bram doesn’t even get a verbal response to that, just a look. “Nothing much is bothering me,” he amends. “Look, I’m fine. Just stressed. About… school, and stuff.”

“About school and stuff,” Garrett repeats flatly. “Bram, c’mon.” Patches of red appear on his neck, a sure sign he’s embarrassed. “Obviously you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want. I know we don’t really… talk much. I mean, we talk all the time, but, like, _talk_.” He looks at a loss for words, and Bram decides to help him out.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“We can, though, if you need to. That's what I'm trying to say.”

At this point, Bram has only come out to his mom, but that went way better than expected. And here’s Garrett, giving him the perfect opening. So why wait?

“Um, alright,” Bram says. His stomach is churning, so he takes a steadying breath. “Well, the thing is, I’m gay.” Garrett opens his mouth to respond to that, so Bram holds up a hand. “Wait, there’s more. So I posted this thing on the Tumblr, right? Back when school was starting. And this guy commented his email address, and…” Once Bram starts, he can’t stop. So he tells Garrett the whole story, all the way up to where Simon thought he was Cal. “So… yeah. I haven’t really checked my email since.”

“Damn,” Garrett breathes when Bram finishes. Bram can’t look him in the eye right now, so he settles for staring at his shoulder. “I just wanted to know if you were okay, Greenfeld, I didn't ask for your life story--” Bram shoves him, and he laughs. “Kidding! I'm just kidding.”

“Dick,” Bram says, but he's grinning.

Garrett sobers. “If Spier doesn’t get that you’d be the best thing that ever happened to him, he’s a dick too.”

Bram blushes. “Thanks, Garrett.”

“No problem, man. And I don’t know if this needs to be said-- like, I hope you know this, but your sexuality doesn’t change anything about our friendship.”

Objectively, Bram knows that, but it’s still really nice to hear. “Oh. Um, good. Thanks again. Really.”

Garrett stands up and offers a hand to Bram. “What are friends for?”

He tries to get a head start on next week’s chemistry homework that night, but the reading is really dense and his concentration keeps slipping.

He’s totally underestimated Garrett, so he can’t stop thinking: how much of his not exactly loneliness is self-imposed? And of course he starts thinking about Simon, because a part of him is always thinking about Simon. Bram hasn’t made an effort to reach out after overhearing Abby talking about Cal, and that's starting to feel like a really stupid decision.

He knows who Simon is, and that can’t be changed now. But it’s not Simon’s fault he doesn’t know who Bram is. Bram’s been nothing but cautious regarding details about himself, while Simon’s been… Simon. Unabashedly himself. So they weren’t exactly on a level playing field. And he can’t be mad at Simon for a rejection that hasn’t even happened yet. 

So he lets himself check his email for the first time in a while. He has three emails from Simon in his inbox, and as soon as he finishes reading them he orders the shirt.

It arrives over the weekend, and he makes sure to get to school early on Monday so he can hang it on Simon’s locker without anyone seeing. The idea that Simon could think that Bram found him unattractive is just completely unacceptable. So much so that Bram barely even tries to hide that he’s staring at him when he comes into the cafeteria at the end of the week wearing eyeliner.

He’s not sure if Simon consciously notices the difference, but Bram feels like he smiles at him more. So things are looking up. 

“Glad to see you back to your old self, man,” Garrett tells him, clapping him on the back as they wait to be let into the auditorium for the play after lunch. Bram knows Simon doesn’t have any lines, but he’s kind of ridiculously looking forward to having an excuse to stare at him for a couple of hours. Sue him. Maybe it’s because he took a risk with the shirt, but it just feels like a very… dynamic time. The air is ripe with possibility. Something’s about to happen, Bram knows it.

He grins at Garrett. “Glad to be back.” They make their way to their seats. Ms. Albright gives them a talk about bullying, during which everyone’s unsurprisingly rude. Bram claps louder than he usually would at the end to make up for it.

It gets dimmer and the music starts. Bram doesn’t know much about theater, but Simon’s fantastic. He’s not even completely biased in thinking that, because when the overhead lights come back on in the theater, Garrett leans over and says, “Damn, Spier was pretty funny.”

Bram smiles at him. “You know I’m going to make you go to rest of the shows with me.”

Garrett smiles back. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

 

V. Dating Simon Spier is…

so much better than Bram imagined it would be. And that’s saying a lot, because Bram’s always thought it would be pretty great. Bram just likes him so much. Loves him, even, although he hasn’t gotten around to saying that to him out loud yet. 

As great of a boyfriend Simon is, however, he’s turning out to be a less than great partner for their English project.

“We have to finish this,” he says from Simon’s desk. 

“Why?” Simon says, lounging on the edge of his bed. “Literally no one cares about contemporary poets from the 19th century. No one. If you go to the library and ask the librarian for, like, some 19th century poetry books, or whatever, she’ll say, ‘19th century? Sorry, we burned all those books years ago!’”

“Mr. Wise cares,” Bram argues, spinning around in the chair. “So that’s someone.”  


“Abraham.”

“Simon.”

“It’s May!” he exclaims, evidently switching his argument. “It’s impossible to work at the end of the school year, that’s just a fact. C’mon.”

“Obviously not, since I’ve already done half of the work on this.”

“That’s not fair,” Simon says. “I helped.”

“If by help you mean eating Oreos on your bed, then sure.” Bram stands up to get one for himself. 

“Why are you so mean to me?” Simon asks, collapsing into his pillows and pouting up at him. “Remember when you couldn’t talk to me because I was so cute? I miss those days.”

Bram throws the uneaten half of his cookie at Simon’s face. “Uncalled for.”

He grins and tugs Bram’s arm until Bram sits down next to him. “I actually have to do my homework now. Every day’s a struggle.”

“Wow. I’m the worst.”

Simon finds his hand and holds it. “Worst than the worst. A total monster.” He intertwines their fingers, and Bram’s resolve just crumbles.

“I guess we could take a break,” he says. “A small one,” he adds when Simon laughs. “Like five minutes, tops.”

“Ten,” Simon says.

“You’re such a bad influence,” Bram whispers, leaning down. 

But hey, nobody’s perfect. And all things considered, Bram’s pretty lucky.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fic since my brief stint with Lily and James Potter on Wattpad in the seventh grade, but I love these dumb boys so much and love makes you do crazy things. 
> 
> I still don't really know what I'm doing on AO3. Like, all my italics went away when I posted this? What's that about? This was fun, though, and this fandom is still really small, so I definitely want to post more.
> 
> That being said, send me prompts on Tumblr @vastrooms!


End file.
